DRINKWINE: New friends and fun times

In its hay- day, East Jordan was one of the premier destinations to fish for trout on the Jordan River. Fly shops sprouting the latest and best patterns for monster browns and other trout could be found in plenty. Guides were available to take “sports” on the relatively short float on the Jordan compared to the Au Sable and Manistee in a short version of an Au Sable River Boat that, in my opinion, the classiest way to float and fish those rivers.

East Jordan is where the Jordan River empties into the south arm of Lake Charlevoix and is home to the East Jordan Iron Works, the largest employer by far in the region. It boasts a great marina that gives access to all of Lake Charlevoix and eventually, Lake Michigan. It is one of the most non-commercialized northern towns you’ll visit. In fact, economically, it suffers more than most cities its size…..but it has a barber shop.

Eighty seven year old Bruce Woodcock (love that name) started barbering in East Jordan in 1971 and bought the shop from the previous owner shortly after. He came there after serving in WW ll, working on a freighter on the Great Lakes and had done a six year stint in a factory. Finally, in his forties, he attended Barber College – he takes great pride telling people he went to college – and found an opening in East Jordan; the rest is history.

I heard about Bruce from several different sources when the conversation got around to there not being any fly shops or guides left in East Jordan. I was told that the economy closed the shops and the Jordan lost its appeal to fly fishermen who opted for the bigger rivers like the Au Sable and Manistee. But, if I wanted history and first hand recollection of the way it was, I should get a haircut in the only barber shop on Main Street.

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So one day last week, when it snowed so hard it prevented me from going onto the ice, I did the dumbest thing I did all year (the year is still young) and decided to put the Jeep to the test by taking me the 25 or so miles to East Jordan for a haircut.

I found the shop and to my surprise it was open. Looking through the front window, I wasn’t sure what I had found, but once inside I realized I had entered a museum. It was a barber shop alright, but the walls were covered with old photos of the area in its hay-day, logging tools, fish carvings, head mounts of game to include skulls of bear and a warthog. On the window ledge overlooking Main Street, there were two fly tying vises clamped to a makeshift tying table holding steelhead patterns. A coat rack held several nets showing age and wear; one with huge rips in the netting, he said was his catch-and-release net.

His pride and joy was a replica of his log cabin in the U P which a friend made for him; and of course, in a place of honor, atop of everything else, hung his old bamboo fly rod.

Keeping him company was his constant companion, a small black and white dog that had a ritual of sitting in front of customers until Bruce gave them a treat to give the dog. Then she’d go lie down until you were ready to leave. Jill is as much a fixture as the fish carvings and bamboo rod. Bruce’s eyes gleamed when I told him Seamus was in the car. He produced pictures of his Brittany of 15 years that is no longer with him, but the memories are.

Getting a haircut from an 87 year old barber might give some pause, but as he went about his business we talked about fly fishing the Jordan and he had my complete attention.

Bruce recanted the fish he took while fishing from a canoe he put rocks in the front of to keep it level as he paddled downstream and the countless times he “almost” slipped while wadding.

Listening to Bruce recant with ease the day’s he guided on the river deciding to give it up to just fish, and not caring about the catch, instead just appreciating the solitude the river afforded him, I realized we had a lot in common.

At 87, some might think about slowing down; not Bruce. He told me he and a friend have a hunting trip booked in Alberta, Canada this November. It was then I decided I wanted to fish with him. He agreed and we tentatively planned to re-connect this spring.

Bruce Woodcock keeps a journal in the shop and asks visitors to sign it. I was in good company.